


Truly, Madly, Deeply (I hate you)

by Moonstruckidiot



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dont worry about the dogs thou ;-), Dubious Consent, First Kiss, First Time, Hannibal and Will hate each other, Happy hannigram endinng, M/M, Manipulative Hannibal, Plot, Vampire AU, Vampire Hannibal, Vampires, Violence (non graphic), bad ass Will, dont worry too much about that, due to circumstances, implied dog deaths (off screen), sex (not explicit), world building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 12:54:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8402500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonstruckidiot/pseuds/Moonstruckidiot
Summary: In a world where vampires and humans live next door to each other Will Graham is an enforcer of the laws governing human/vampire relations. In the line of duty Will kills Hannibal's family and Hannibal comes looking for revenge.
Or
Will pisses off the wrong vampire but Hannibal sees the potential in Will and goes about transforming him in his normal cruel to be kind way.





	

**Author's Note:**

> so I wrote this in four days rather than my normal 6 weeks, I hope its not too bad lol - not beta read
> 
> I don't normally write sex in my fics so don't expect great things, lol
> 
> Some background notes
> 
> Will is age wise early thirties
> 
> Hundred of years ago humans and vampires sat down together and came up with a series of laws governing their relations. It was agreed the Academy, a human organisation, would enforce them. The Academy can be over zealous in its role. 
> 
> In general humans and vampires get on very well. Vampires, whilst needing to drink blood and being stronger and faster than humans, still remain largely their pre turned selves. If they were bad before they were turned they would be after and vice versa.
> 
> Hannibal is a pure blood vampire - born and raised by unsuspecting human parents they undergo a becoming during their late teens - they are not the undead as they never died - are pretty much immortal - very few in numbers
> 
> Ancient vampires are turned humans who have lived a long time and are powerful but not as powerful as a pure blood like Hannibal - they are the undead.

Will Graham felt sated, relaxed. Hands clasped round a warm cup he breathed in the aroma of the best coffee in the city.

It was a quiet spot, a café tucked away down a back alley. Frequented mostly by locals and the occasional tourist it was never full to the rafters, unlike the ones in the main business areas, and that suited Will just fine.

Will had gotten lucky and found a seat at one of the tables in the small walled courtyard. The staff hang bird feeders from overhanging tree branches. The colony of birds are as much of a draw for Will as the coffee, they are a rare bit of countryside in the city.

He’d had a good night and he carried that feeling into his morning. Head tilted up, eyes closed Will allowed himself the luxury of feeling the June sun on his face. No tension resided in his bones, it had all burned away.

Will ran through the events of the previous evening. The male vampire had fought hard but he’d been nowhere near good enough to pose a real threat. Will pictured the moment the stake entered the vampire’s chest, it always felt good and he enjoyed replaying it again and again in his head.  Before the vampire had even become dust Will had turned towards the pretty female standing in the door way. Her long black hair no more than a blur as she started to run. Will had known where she was headed, to protect the newly turned vampire hiding in the cellar. His cock twitched as he remembered catching hold of her hair, spinning her around and slipping the stake, covered in her ‘brother’s’ blood, into her chest. He then headed deeper into the house. He had killed the three of them quickly, it was a matter of pride if not mercy.

In Will’s opinion one less family of leeches in the city was always a cause for celebration. It was not an opinion most shared. As long as vampires obeyed the laws then they could set up home right next to the living. Will thought it was bullshit and he’d stake every last one of them if he could. It’s why he loved his job. He got to stake some of them legally.

The male vampire, Randall, had stolen extra blood rations, a stake-able offence. Most enforcers would be lenient for a first time offender and issue a warning, but not Will. The other two female leeches were guilty by association. He’d likely get into trouble for their executions, but Will had already sent his boss, Jack Crawford, a ‘self defence’ scenario.

The sun went behind a cloud and Will opened his eyes. Only the warmth wasn’t banished by a cloud but a man.

“Move,” Will snarled. He wasn’t known for his manners.

The man did not make a noise as he pulled back the chair next to Will and sat down.

Hannibal Lecter. One of only two pure blood vampires in the whole of the Americas. He was reputed to be the oldest vampire in existence. Will would recognise his face anywhere. He’d never met Hannibal, nor any pure blood, before. Their history though is drilled into all Academy agents.

Will watched as Hannibal’s hand went to his jacket’s inner pocket and withdrew a small white card. He placed it on the table and pushed it towards Will. In the centre of the card a small animal stood proud. Will recognised it as the calling card he’d left at the scene last night.

“The mongoose I presume,” said Hannibal as he slid the card across the table.

Will didn’t tense or show any fear. He simply pushed his chair back, the extra room allowing him to splay his legs out and get more comfortable. He met Hannibal’s eyes but didn’t respond.

“You are as rude as they say.”

Will gave a little chuff and picked up the used calling card. He turned it over checked for blood and tucked it into his jacket pocket. He’d reuse it at his next execution.

“Randall, Alana and Abigail, they didn’t deserve to be executed,” said Hannibal.

Will presumed the stare he was on the receiving end of would intimidate most people, but not him. He picked up his cup and took a leisurely sip of the still warm coffee.

“That is where we will agree to disagree,” said Will calmly. He closed his eyes. Now that Hannibal had sat down he could enjoy the sun again.

“You’re angry ... why?” asked Will. He never was one to resist the opportunity to antagonise the powerful even one who had suffered a bereavement and was likely out for revenge. “The family of most pure bloods live in palaces and certainly have more human blood at their disposal than what is allowed in the weekly ration.” Will paused and looked the plaid suited vampire up and down, he didn’t hide the sneer on his lips. “A thing as old as you must get bored. There are only so many suits to be made. They were what ... more mildly amusing than most humans. Did you want to see how long they’d survive as vampires. Well, not long...and I could give a fuck.”

Hannibal looked at the human sat across from him. He conceded to himself that Will Graham was right, to some extent. He did not care for his family as much as most pure bloods did. They were a distraction, an amusement and often an irritation but he did feel genuine affection for them. He was not at all pleased that they had been killed.

Maroon eyes drifted over the relaxed form of Will Graham. He was a beautiful man, Hannibal admitted. Many a pure blood, or ancient vampire, would want to add him to their family just for his looks alone. Not so Hannibal.

Will’s face and body had a fragility to them which made him seem easily broken. It was, thought Hannibal, probably one of the reasons why he had a long confirmed kill list, he would be easy to underestimate. Not by Hannibal though. Ice ran in Will’s veins the man was cold, colder than any vampire.

It was to be expected, Hannibal mused, he had heard the rumours of how agents from the Academy were recruited. Taken at a young age, their potential was assessed and then honed. Subjected to a mixture of genetic manipulation and brutal training methods they came out of the schools stronger, faster and more deadly than nature intended. They also lacked fear or normal human emotion. Hannibal almost felt sorry for them.

Most agents were deeply mistrustful of everyone, especially vampires. Will didn’t just mistrust he hated, it seeped through every pore contaminating the air in which they both sat. This, thought Hannibal, is a very dangerous man, someone who both humans and vampires would be better off without.

Hannibal rose from his chair and pondered what a shame it was that this beautiful little café should be polluted by the presence of Will Graham.

“Quid pro quo, Mr Graham,” he said as he turned to leave.

Will briefly opened his eyes and watched as Hannibal walked away, “you should have taken better care of them,” he called out. He then turned to the waiter and ordered another cup of coffee.

\--X--

Hannibal walked along the street where Will Graham lived. In one of the poorest parts of the city he should have made for a memorable sight. Dressed in such finery as is normally only seen at high society banquets Hannibal should have found himself dogged by a trail of admirers. At the very least curious children should have pointed, and retired folk bored with watching their lives slip by should have stared. Invisibility was what Hannibal wished and his presence slipped through the minds of Will’s neighbours like water through a sieve.

Accessing detailed records on Academy agents was virtually impossible, something even money could not buy. So Hannibal had decided to undertake an investigation into Will himself.

Will’s apartment was exactly as Hannibal would have expected. There is little to no indication of a life lived. The main room is devoid of the detritus of living, no books, ornaments, or photographs. Two paintings adorn the walls but Hannibal suspected they were there when Will moved in. It made him wonder what Will did with his spare time.

A single bed is pushed into a corner of the main living room, along side it a small wooden cabinet. Within its drawers is an object of some emotional value. Hannibal could feel its resonance. He pulled the drawer handle a photograph came into view. There was no need to pick it up he could see what was depicted. A family. A mother, a father and their two young sons. Both boys appeared to take after their mother, curly brown hair, porcelain skin and big blue eyes.

“A twin,” Hannibal said quietly to the room. “Interesting.”

Apart from the photograph there was no other visible indication of family, friends, lovers or even one night stands. Yet, a feeling of happiness still resonated around the four walls.

Hannibal concluded it was most likely related to the faint whiff of dog. The smell was not strong enough to indicate permanent residents but instead occasional visitors. From the small amounts of hair intertwined in the fabric of the duvet cover these house guests also slept on the bed.

\--X--

Most of Will’s spare time, which wasn’t much, was spent at an animal sanctuary. He did not have the life style which fitted the responsibilities of pet ownership, so he found the next best thing.

Every week a proportion of his earnings went towards paying for two dogs, who had been categorised as impossible to rehome, to stay in luxury accommodation at the shelter.

Excitement filled Will’s belly when he opened the door leading to the reception area.  He smiled thinking about his boys, Buster and Winston. They would be spending the night and he hoped they would both like their new toys and not fight over them too much.

No one was in reception so Will walked around the desk and looked into the office.

It was the look on the sanctuary manager’s face, shock, horror, disbelief which sent Will running towards the kennels. There was blood, so much blood.

\--X--

The first vampire died on his way to art school, the second walking to her job as the head chef of an exclusive restaurant. Witnesses stared in horror as a family of four, just picnicking in a local park, were all executed. Some ancient vampires tried to apprehend Will Graham, the Academy agent gone rogue, they were never seen again. Panicked, vampires refused to leave their homes. Humans demonstrated on behalf of their friends and neighbours demanding the culprit be caught and soon. The killings didn’t stop. Will visited the fine houses of vampires leaving layers of dust in his wake.   

\--X--

Hannibal had expected Will to seek revenge. Not at him directly, as Will would know he would not stand a chance, but indirectly. Something on a large scale. Something, Hannibal hoped, big enough to make the notoriously protective Academy turn over one of its own, but Will, Will had been spectacular.

And that is why Hannibal found himself sat in Jack Crawford’s office. Crawford had personally overseen Will’s training and Hannibal could tell he felt some responsibility for what had happened.

“Please convey my deepest regret over the deaths of so many innocents,” said Jack.   

“Of course. But..” Hannibal paused, as if he didn’t really want to say the next part. “I’m afraid regret is not enough. People want action. Justice. You can understand.”

Shoulders slumped Jack took a deep breath. “I have been authorized to bring Agent Graham in, dead or alive.”

Hannibal nodded. “Will you hand him over to the Council of Ancients. Let justice be meted out by those who he sought to destroy.”

Jack grimaced. “It’s not normal procedure. We discipline internally.”

“What Agent Graham has done is not within the boundaries of normal.”

With eyes closed Jack nodded his agreement.

The two men let minutes roll quietly by. Hannibal looked to be deep in thought. Jack sat at his desk fiddling with his papers, something clearly still on his mind.

Jack cleared his throat. “Will was born and raised in Louisiana until he was ten,” he began. “His parents, brother and neighbours were killed by a tribe of rogue vampires. They came into the area during the famine which followed the great flood.”

“They take advantage of natural disasters to prey on the vulnerable,” said Hannibal compassion in his voice.

“When the rescue services turned up he was the only thing they found alive and just barely at that. He’s never got over it. We did what we could for him but it was a mistake to make him an agent. I’m telling you this because I want you to know he’s not all bad.” Jack took a breath and looked at Hannibal sizing him up. “You have a reputation as a reasonable man.”

Hannibal cocked his head, “Go on, Jack. I’m listening.”

“He killed your family. So it is unreasonable of me to ask this but I’m going to. Will you speak on his behalf, ask them to show some mercy.”

“I don’t know Jack, “ said Hannibal. He buttoned up his jacket and got up from the chair. “I’ll have to think about it.”

\--X--

Like any other human Will had his weaknesses. They were fewer than most and he kept them hidden under layers of reinforced steel.  Still Hannibal had found them and dragged them into the light.

Will had lost the dogs he loved and was now being handed over, to almost certain death, by a man who had become a father figure to him. And it was not without satisfaction that Hannibal witnessed a brief spark of hurt in Will’s eyes when Jack turned his back and walked away.

In silence Hannibal escorted Will to a large reception room in the Verger mansion. As they walked side by side Will was impassive, not a whiff of the hatred which had polluted their first meeting. Had the great toll of vampire dead brought Will some peace, Hannibal wondered.  Had his hunger for revenge and blood been sated. Or was he just resigned to a fate set in motion the moment a stake slipped into Randall’s chest.

As a pure blood Hannibal could, if he wanted, be judge, jury and executioner. For the good of the community he had agreed that the decision should rest with the elected members of the Council of Ancients.

Margot Verger had gladly agreed to provide the venue for the trial. Margot, her brother Mason, Bedelia Du Maurier, Frederick Chilton and several other ancient vampires would decide Will’s fate.

The room was full with family of the murdered vampires, as well as, members of the public from all over the country. As the only human present Will looked vulnerable. He had easily taken down vampires on the streets and in their homes but he would not survive against these odds if pack instinct took over. It was Hannibal, stood to his right, who kept everyone in check and ensured a trial took place.

Will pleaded guilty. His heart rate not rising above normal as he looked Bedelia in the eyes and said the word which condemned him. Hannibal admired him for it.

Mason suggested turning Will, bricking him up and letting him starve for eternity. Too cruel, said Margot silencing her brother. Some days Mason hated being turned by his sister and today, Hannibal thought, was one of those days.

Frederick proposed Will’s corpse be used as material for a public display. It had been a long time since anyone had seen Hannibal’s artistry and, Frederick humbly suggested, the city walls would make a fine backdrop.

It was, Hannibal conceded, not a bad idea but not possible. It was no longer the middle ages, and humans would most certainly not allow it.

Someone from the crowd suggested Will be used to provide extra blood rations for the families of the people he’d killed. A ripple of enthusiasm ran around the room. Many council members nodded in approval. Hannibal didn’t nod instead he looked at each and everyone in the room and said he would not allow it.  A human, he explained, even with good medical attention, would only survive being bled for so long and then what would happen to the vampires who had come to depend on the extra blood. The ration was there for a reason and it was best to remember it.

After everyone shrunk back into their seats and suggestions dried up Bedelia, known for her shrewdness, spoke up. She asked Hannibal for his suggestion, and that is how Will ended up in a room in the cellar of the Verger mansion.

\--X--

Will didn’t know how long he had been left in the cold, damp place under the house. There was no real way to mark the passing of days except perhaps for the gradual loss of fat from his own body.

His body and mind had been hollowed out by starvation before. When he had been rescued and nursed back to health he had built a wall around those memories. A thick, high wall complete with razor wire. He was sure it would not be breached.

Now when he lay down to sleep on the hard, unforgiving floor, he felt those walled up monsters trying claw their way out.

It made him grateful, although he knew he shouldn’t be, for the distraction offered by the small routines of his captivity.

Footsteps would be heard outside his door followed by the bare ceiling lightbulb hissing to life. A woman would enter, a cup, containing a few drops of water, carried in her hand. Occasionally she would check the pot he used as a toilet sometimes taking it, sometimes not. The light would be turned off when she left. She never said anything. Will assumed she has been ordered not to.

At other times it was Hannibal who appeared when the light was turned on. Will was quite surprised at the frequency of his visits. He wasn’t sure if it was more or less than once a day. Sometimes it seemed only a few minutes passed between visits, other times hours. Never days though, Will was sure of that. But it was hard to tell. The water and bits of food Hannibal brought were welcome and just enough to stop Will from tipping over the edge into death.

The routine Hannibal followed was always the same. He walked purposively over to where Will was sat, crouched down and called him by his name. Without asking he would then reach out and touch Will’s hair. Whilst doing this Hannibal would talk about his day. He would include snippets of world news and society gossip as if they were some old married couple. Will wondered if Hannibal was lonely.

At first Will had hated the intimacy of it, of being touched and being talked to as if Hannibal actually cared about him. On several occasions he’d told Hannibal to ‘fuck the hell off’. The response was always a chuckle and a minute tightening of the fingers in his hair.

As time passed though, and he would never admit it to anyone, he had started looking forward to Hannibal’s visits and not just for the food.

He knew Hannibal was doing a number on him psychologically, exploiting his weaknesses. Death was not a spectre Will ran from. Physical brutality he could take as much as he could give, which was a lot. Affection though, even a facsimile of it and Will caved.

He surprised himself when thoughts of how nice it would be to lie on Hannibal’s lap first drifted through his mind. He didn’t have much to think about, sat in the cellar, so what started as occasional thoughts soon became much more frequent.

Will knew it was all just a game to Hannibal, it couldn’t be anything else. It irritated him that he felt like a pet being house trained. He was even more irritated that his mind seemed to have concluded, without his express permission, that it would be much nicer being Hannibal’s lap dog than the Academy’s attack dog.

Sometimes Will wished they would just get it over with and kill him. It would put a stop to his traitorous mind. But, he’d asked himself is death really a punishment for someone like him. No. Mason was right. Turn him and wall him up, that would be more fitting.

It felt a bit like Hannibal had walled him up anyway. Cruel bastard. Just he’s alive but still hungry and going slowly mad. If this continued he’d end up a mad lap dog that’s for sure. Dogs though, it all came down to dogs.

“You killed Buster and Winston,” said Will when next Hannibal visited.

“Did I?” said Hannibal, his fingers smoothed Will’s mucky tresses.

“The least you can do is admit it,” Will’s voice almost failed him but his anger gave him just enough energy to say what he needed.

“It is not in my nature to kill such simple creatures.”

“What,” said Will. “But..”

“They are currently having a fine time destroying my villa in Italy.”

Will’s eyes brightened, cracked lips parted in a smile. Then a frown, “But, if I’d known...You let me execute all those vampires.”

The response was a shrug. Hannibal tilted Will’s face upwards, “Birth always requires blood.”

\--X--

They all felt the moment Will’s human mind shattered.

Bedelia’s first priority was to grab Molly, her human personal assistant and then make for the study where she intended to pour herself a large glass of wine. She was met there by Margot who had rounded up several human employees not in Will’s direct path.   

Mason had headed to his own personal helicopter. His plans changed suddenly when he heard the screams of his pilot.  “He’ll drain us all dry,” he said to his sister as he too took a seat in the study, his favourite piglet wrapped in his arms. They all knew pure bloods would drink from humans or vampires and none of them could do anything about it.

“Thank god for Hannibal,” said Frederick who knew his own thousand years of life made him no match for a fledgling pure blood.

“Yes,” said Bedelia. “We should all be very thankful.”

\--X--

When Hannibal had closed the cellar door behind him he’d asked for another cup of water to be taken to the prisoner. It hadn’t been long before the door opened again and Will’s usual lady, the one with long curly brown hair entered the room. Will had become very weak and she, out of kindness, had crouched down to help him drink.

The hair had been the thing. It had reminded him of his mother, the long neck too. _Did she smell like her_? he wondered. He’d only meant to lean in, sniff her. She didn’t smell the same, but her smell beckoned him closer anyway.

He didn’t hear her scream. He was too entranced by how her skin gave way beneath his teeth. How her bones crunched. How warm her blood felt spilling down his throat. She lay cradled in his arms whilst he took great gulps. Patiently he then waited for her heart to stop before carefully laying her down. It was just as he had done for his mother.

Will knew two things, he was hungry and what he needed lay behind the door. He could hear them, a multitude of hearts beating in the rooms above.

The Verger mansion had been well stocked with human employees. The pay and conditions were good and Margot prevented her brother from indulging in the unsavoury behaviour he was rumoured to enjoy. He, like every other vampire, were also subjected to the laws governing human-vampire relations.

The only exception to a complete ban on vampires drinking from unwilling humans was during the becoming stage of a fledgling pure blood. Its was such a rare event no one worried about it.

So Will drank himself into a stupor whilst the world convulsed around him. Many died before his first hunger was sated.

\--X--

Hannibal heard the clink of high heels coming down the staircase behind him.

“Hello Bedelia,” he said as he turned to greet her. He did admired her. Her taste in wine and clothes were exemplary and she possessed enough wit and intelligence to survive longer than most turned humans.

“Well played Hannibal,” she said her wine glass raised in salute.

Hannibal accepted the compliment with a small bow of his head.

“When did you know,” she asked.

“He had a twin,” Hannibal replied. All pure bloods have a human twin, nature gifts the parents with a human child whilst it curses them with a vampire one. “It made me pause for thought. And there were other indications if anyone cared to look.”   

“Congratulations, you have a new family now. I trust you will be more attentive to him then all the others,” said Bedelia as she wisely headed back up the stairs.

\--X--

Hannibal reached for the door handle and pushed. Chaos painted in red greeted him. The floor and wall space glistened with blood. Broken furniture, torn limbs and spilt guts were dispersed randomly across the room. The whole scene spoke of Will’s desperation.

A drop of blood rolled down the back of a chair. Extending a long finger Hannibal mopped it up and brought it to his lips. As he tasted it he mused on how much it would cost Mason to reclaim the room from its current state, or maybe, and this was his preferred option, it should be left as a shrine to Will’s becoming.

The becoming of a pure blood is always a disaster for the those caught in its epicentre. It is inevitable that many humans and vampires will die, a sacrifice to the god of blood who now walks amongst them.  

Hannibal was pleased he had not met Will at his first, and ultimately unsuccessful, becoming. The meddling of the Academy, its rescuing of Will and their hand in suppressing his becoming had, in many ways, been fortuitous. At least from Hannibal’s perspective.

If they had met when Will was ten the bond they formed would have been parental and remained so over the course of their relationship. As he was now a mature adult the imprint would allow them to satisfy each others needs in a much more pleasurable manner.

Becoming at the age of ten was unheard of, and far too young. Hannibal suspected the famine had triggered Will’s survival instincts forcing him into an early becoming. It had not been rogue vampires who killed the Graham family and their neighbours, but Will himself. He was not sure if the Academy knew exactly what they had found. Perhaps they had only seen a gifted, if traumatised, boy who was all too willing to be helped to suppress what had happened.

\--X--

Barefoot Hannibal had entered the room and he proceeded to carefully remove the rest of his clothing. He placed the pile on a dressing table stool, one of only a few clean surfaces. Naked he headed towards the far right corner of the room.

The sight Hannibal found took his breath away. Will lay saturated in blood, cock in hand, chasing a completion that Hannibal knew he would not find alone.

Aware of a presence Will’s eyes snapped opened. Hannibal marvelled as orbs of the deepest red searched for but did not see him. The blood which flooded Will’s body had, temporarily, taken his sight.

“Will,” said Hannibal as he settled to a crouch.

Each blood glossed curl was neatly tucked away from Will’s face. Touches lingered long enough to feel more like a caress. A routine familiar enough to be recognised by a mind shattering and remaking itself.  It pleased Hannibal when Will tilted up wanting more.

His next movements were much quicker, catching both of Will’s hands pinning them behind his head. He avoided a snap of teeth by millimetres.

“Naughty boy,” chuckled Hannibal. “I only want to help.”

“Get off me. I need...” snarled Will frantically trying to free himself from Hannibal’s grip.

“I know what my mongoose needs,” said Hannibal. With his free hand he undid the top button of Will’s shirt and worked his way down. Fingers lingered over every newly revealed piece of flesh, the light strokes a promise of more to come.

\--X--

“They say a new pure blood should imprint on more than one person,” said Mason projecting his voice above everyone else in the room. The ancient vampire made to get up from his chair adding, “I’ll happily partake in that responsibility.”

It was true that on the very rare occasion of the becoming of a pure blood he or she was encouraged to imprint on several vampires. This allowed a level of control to be exerted over the powerful being who, overwhelmed with need, was capable of drinking a continent dry in a matter of weeks. Dispersing control also mitigated against the temptation to abuse the power they had been given.

Bedelia knew Hannibal had no intention of sharing and he was far too powerful to be forced. She was tempted to let Mason try. He would surely die before he even set foot in the room. Ever the pragmatist though Bedelia knew Mason did still have his uses.  

“Stay where you are Mason,” said Bedelia. “You are not going anywhere near Will Graham.”

“Not fair,” said Mason with a pout. “Lecter gets to vigorously fuck,” he paused and it was evident to all what he was picturing, “our virginal pure blood and I get...”

“You get to handsomely compensate all the families of the dead humans Will is sure to leave in his wake,” said Bedelia as she poured herself a fresh glass of wine. “If you do that maybe, just maybe, when Will normalises he’ll forgive you for that ‘wall him up’ comment.”

Mason mumbled something about not being the only one to  recommend such punishments.

Bedelia sighed, shook her head and continued, “I will ask all the governors if they can send us their condemned prisoners. We will surely need plenty more fresh blood,” she gave an apologetic smile to the humans in the room.  “And Frederick,” she said turning to the vampire who incessantly twirled an ornate walking stick. Bedelia presumed he thought it made him look grand, it did not. “Can you contact Freddie Lounds we are going to need some PR on this.”

\--X--

Hannibal’s touch became firmer his free hand running the entire length of Will’s torso. His reward, feeling the very moment determination to escape become a submission to his touch.

The warm, supple flesh felt so much better than the cold, hard skin of turned vampires. Hannibal craned his neck forward and nuzzled. Underneath the coppery tang of matted blood Will’s essence was waiting to be uncovered.

With the tip of his tongue Hannibal painstakingly claimed Will’s pale flesh. The way the body beneath him rose to meet his mouth was tantalising, it almost begged to be tasted. He could not resist.

Flesh parted under the sharp stroke of Hannibal’s nail. Will’s cry of pleasure and pain encouraged Hannibal to lick and suck deeper into the wound. The drag of nails working against the tide of its inevitable healing.

With soft licks and harder nips Hannibal made his way back up toward Will’s mouth. He pressed their lips together softly and was pleased when, without any more encouragement, Will opened for him.

Will was greedy with his kisses, like an succubus stealing breath. Any other time and Hannibal would have gladly indulged him but not that day. He needed to make sure Will was not just satisfying his lust but was also imprinting.

Hannibal pulled away. He was still close enough to feel Will’s breath but it was too far for Will who, with hands still restraint above his head, drove himself forward wanting more. Hannibal clamped his other hand down on Will’s chest.

“Listen to me Will,” Hannibal said. “I am going to remove my hands. You will keep yours where they are.”

Will did not move, the imprint had started to take effect. Instead he pleaded, “I need to touch you Hannibal, feel you. Please let me.”

Hannibal considered Will’s pretty mouth. “I’ll allow it, but do not bite,” he said. “At least, not until I give you permission.”

Will smiled. Then Hannibal found himself face down on the floor a weight straddled his back.

Nails clawed into Hannibal’s skin. Flaying him open. Deeper and deeper they dug. Too quick for even his body to repair itself. “I need you,” mumbled Will repeatedly.

Will was all need and instincts now. His only thought was to forge a connection with Hannibal. To possess his very essence, his very being. No other way existed for him except that which was writ in blood, flesh and pain.

“That’s not how its done Will,” said Hannibal through the white light of pain. “Let me show you.”

Too quick for the human eye their positons reversed.

Hannibal settled in between Will’s thighs, lined himself up and drove deep inside sheathing himself completely. Will’s body would repair and adjust, the pain just another necessary part of his becoming. Later they would take their time, explore every part of each other after all they had eternity to do so.

\--X--

Sometime later in Italy...

Hannibal wondered when he had fallen in love with Will. It was not at first sight that was for sure. He’d wanted to kill him, slowly, painfully. The dogs, Winston and Buster, had shown that Will was not quite the cold hearted monster he had assumed, but no it was not then. When he had laid eyes on a blood soaked desperately needy Will. That was lust, most definitely lust. Earlier that morning when Will had come home, a dirty bundle of fur in his arms, a smile on his face and defiance in his eyes. Yes, truly, madly, deeply.

**Author's Note:**

> I tagged this as dubious consent as Will, due to his becoming and Hannibal's manipulation, was not of sound mind and could not give informed consent. Informed consent is of course really important in the real world.


End file.
